


your love; it soothes this burn in me

by _prettysetters (fandom_sister)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: "it's rotten work; not to me- not if it's you", Fever Dreams, Fluff, Hallucinations, M/M, Might be slightly OOC, Panic Attacks, Sakusa Kiyoomi-centric, Self-Indulgent, The Author Regrets Nothing, a reference to the pylades and orestes quote, and atsumu is here to provide all of it, bby omi is sick, because he deserves all the love, kiyoomi is cared for, miya atsumu is a sweetheart, nd his boyfriend takes care of him, the author also projects onto the characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29022441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_sister/pseuds/_prettysetters
Summary: Kiyoomi wakes up to find his mouth parched and throat ablaze. He tightens the blanket around him and swallows past the tiny lump in his throat. Sakusa Kiyoomi can count the number of times he’s been sick on one hand, and he’s hated every single moment of it.orin which kiyoomi falls sick but thankfully, this time, he has his boyfriend to help him through it.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 9
Kudos: 83





	your love; it soothes this burn in me

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this is a pretty light read, but i'd just like to mention:
> 
> cw// puking, fever dreams, descriptions of panic attacks, dizziness, descriptions of breathlessness
> 
> (please let me know if i missed anything)

Kiyoomi wakes up to find his mouth parched and throat ablaze. His face _burns_ with a type of heat he’s only ever associated with fire, with the slide of alcohol down his throat, with the coarseness of sandpaper. Every other part of him is screaming in anguish, wailing with the iciness of several ice chips coursing through him. It’s a contrasting feeling and Kiyoomi can’t understand- know _how_ to understand what it is his body wants. He tightens the blanket around him and swallows past the tiny lump in his throat. Sakusa Kiyoomi can count the number of times he’s been sick on one hand, and he’s hated every single moment.

His body aches and fatigue weighs his bones down. All he wants to do is curl up and sleep, but the thought of all the dirt and germs on his body makes his stomach twist with unease. Before he can stop his train of thought, he feels something crawl under his skin; he imagines it _burning_ him like acid, tearing apart his skin to free itself from within Kiyoomi, leaving behind only his bones. He writhes, the blanket twisting itself around his body; for a moment the pain seems to engulf him, an icy trail scorching through him. His breath comes out in pants. The walls feel like they’re closing in on him and he _can’t_ breathe- he can’t _breathe_ because his body is on fire and the contamination is eating him from the inside. Bile rises in his throat and he turns on his side quickly before his body heaves up his stomach’s contents onto the floor _._

He spends some time panting against the side of the bed. Then, with a great shuddering breath, he lies on his back again. There’s a sour taste at the back of his throat and his eyes are already watering. Kiyoomi can feel his stomach toss uncomfortably. There’s a sheen of sweat on his skin and it’s taking _everything_ in him to not begin sobbing. His body has started to burn again. The ceiling swims in his vision and he closes his eyes. The last thing he registers before succumbing to a restless sleep is a cool hand upon his forehead and a gentle voice.

Kiyoomi’s sleep does not come without a price. In his dreams, he’s five years old again; he’s back at his mother’s apartment, where she’s bent over in the washroom, scrubbing the tiles until her hands are raw. She doesn’t look at him, but her presence looms over him until the walls are expanding and expanding and there’s so much- so much dirt, so much to clean. His mother continues scrubbing as though she doesn’t notice- doesn’t notice Kiyoomi, doesn’t notice the additional grime collecting in the ever-expanding space.

Kiyoomi wants to puke again at the sight in front of him. He clamps a hand over his mouth as his vision distorts. The air is thick with the scent of sharp bleach and cleaning products. He watches his mother scrub, even as her hands tire and shake with over-exertion. He wants to reach out; he wants to tell her to _stop_ , but he _can’t_ . He's stuck watching the scene like a broken record, looping over and over and over. Kiyoomi suddenly feels so, _so_ dizzy. He can't remember the last time he inhaled so much bleach, can't remember the last time he used cleaning as a coping method, can't remember the last time he's ever felt so helpless. There's a sense of desperation as he claws at his throat, willing his voice to _work, damn it._ He needs to tell his mother to _stop, please just stop._

He jerks himself awake. There’s a cool press on his forehead, soaking up the burning heat that seems to be _pouring_ out from inside him, a never-ending stream of heat-heat-heat. A voice is whispering gently as a hand strokes through his hair.

“‘s just a nightmare, Omi-kun. Breathe with me, baby.” The voice is soft and gentle, just a wisp away from not being there at all. It’s a startingly weird contrast to the voice Kiyoomi usually finds himself associating to its owner, to the use of the pet name. He tries to focus on the voice; it feels like water lapping gently on the shores at a beach. With each breath, he feels himself calming down.

“‘s too hot,” he manages to slur out through the heavy dryness of his throat. The haze of sleep and his dream still press against his ribcage like a wall, pinning him into the mattress. Atsumu makes quick work to dip the cloth in cool water and squeeze it before replacing the one on his forehead. “Thirsty, ‘Tsumu,” he manages to add after a beat.

“Get up, Omi-omi. I got soup for you.” He must have made some face though because Atsumu is quick to add, “Don’t worry, I had ‘Samu make it.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t have the energy to tell him he doesn’t mind Atsumu’s cooking. Instead, he just nods, groaning slightly as he gets up. For a while, the world spins and spins and Kiyoomi briefly wonders if it’s _him_ that’s spinning. He blinks through the wave of nausea and blood that rushes through his body after being in one position for so long. 

The first spoonful of chicken soup feels almost like ambrosia. He can't taste much but the warmth soothes the terrifying burn in his throat. It reminds him just how little he has had to eat and Kiyoomi finds himself finishing the entire bowl of soup. When he's done, Atsumu is still there, handing him pills for the fever and a glass of water. 

“D’ya wanna get some rest, hon?” It’s the voice again- soft and gentle, barely there. It comforts Kiyoomi enough to close his eyes for a while. A memory raises itself, unbidden from the depths of his mind. It’s from the summer before his first year of high school. His grandmother fans the flames and her eyes crinkle around the edges as she passes a bowl of hot soup to Kiyoomi. Her lips move as though she’s speaking, but Kiyoomi cannot hear anything other than the crackling fire and the chirping cicadas outside. When he touches his cheek, his hand comes away glimmering under the light like translucent liquid stars.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he opens them again, for time has come to a standstill for Kiyoomi. He doesn’t know if it’s been a few seconds, minutes or hours, but as he blinks his eyes back open, Atsumu’s still there, looking over him with a look Kiyoomi can’t quite place.

He briefly wonders if he’s still hallucinating due to the pills or not. His thoughts are muddled with fatigue and he feels as though he’s underwater, but he’s able to make out the question that lies right above the surface.

"Why?" he rasps out, voice slightly hoarse with the scratchiness of sleep. The blond looks at him in confusion and he slowly adds, "Why are you taking care of me? Isn't it tiring?"

Atsumu lets out a small laugh as he strokes Kiyoomi's cheek gently. "Because I care for ya, Omi-kun. 'm here to take care of ya 'cause ya mean a lot t'me, so let me take care of you, 'kay?"

Maybe it's because he's still half delirious from the medicine he's had or maybe it's because Atsumu won't meet his eyes when he says this, but Kiyoomi finds only pure sincerity in his words. He nods before speaking again, "I'm sorry- I know it's rotten work taking care of me."

Atsumu jerks his head so suddenly, Kiyoomi nearly startles. "No." There's a sudden intensity in his voice: like there's a fire lurking beneath his words and, Kiyoomi muses, maybe there is. "t's not rotten work- not me, not if it's you. I'm gonna love ya on _purpose_ , Kiyoomi. Let me take care of ya- let me _love_ ya."

There's a small lump in his throat as he fights back his tears, but a few trickle down his cheeks anyway. Kiyoomi can't hear much other than the blood rushing in his ears. There's a steady thumping that says, _he cares for me, he cares for me, he cares for me, he cares for me._

Briefly, through the soar of emotions rising within him, Kiyoomi finds himself thinking how Atsumu’s love has dimmed the burn inside him into a comfortable warmth. Kiyoomi can't bring himself to say anything just yet, so he reaches out and holds Atsumu's hand gently. He hopes it's enough to convey his gratitude for now. Atsumu looks at him and smiles softly as he squeezes his hand gently. Kiyoomi squeezes back.

It's not much, but for now, it's just enough.

**Author's Note:**

> sakuatsu has my whole life at this point and i'm not planning on doing anything to stop them. this fic was produced out of the pure need to see atsumu taking care of kiyoomi when he's sick and telling him that he'll love him no matter what. a big thank you to [ v ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vwritesaus/pseuds/vwritesaus) for beta-ing this piece of work! without your proof-reading and ideas, i don't think i would be as happy with this oneshot as i am right now- so thank you very much! 
> 
> and thank you to everyone who stopped by— i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! as always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. feel free to scream with me on [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/_prettysetters) and leave prompts on [ my cc! ](https://curiouscat.qa/_prettysetters)


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